


Delivery Girl

by chirusse



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, I'm just having a bit of fun, Mindless Fluff, completely and stupidly smitten, not sure what this is, this is badly written but its stress relief so dont expect much, yamato is hopelessly in love with you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirusse/pseuds/chirusse
Summary: Picture this: You work as a delivery girl for IDOLiSH7. Yamato has a huge crush on you and doesn't know what to do about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this just because I wanted to see how long it takes for my best friend to find it
> 
> you know who you are
> 
>  

 

Yamato watched you from afar, his eyes always trailing your feet each time you passed by - which was increasingly frequent as i7 prepared for their new concert. 

You worked as one of the lower-ranking errand girls, going out to buy drinks, fetching anything the members needed, and generally completing all the odd jobs. Ordinarily this position was given to someone that Yamato never thought twice about... but you... There was something about your smile that made his heart jump each time it was granted to any of the other members. Did you have to run errands for them? Why couldn't you work exclusively for him?

It was a childish thought, but he still spent ample time thinking of useless errands throughout the day, just so that he could have a reason to chat with you. He would spend hours mulling over potential topics, and even went so far as to peek in your company file, just to learn when your birthday was (unfortunately, it had already passed, damn).

And here you came again, carrying bottles of water for the group's break. Yamato cleared his throat and stepped over to speak with you... but just as you looked at him, all rehearsed words and topics of conversation escaped him.

"H-h... thanks for the water."

Oblivious to his feelings, you only smiled and nodded. It was your job to help support them… with anything they needed! Fuck. You were too cute, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t muster a simple hello. That simple exchange (“Here is your water, great work today!” “Thanks.”) sparked a myriad of questions throughout the remainder of practice.

Had you always parted your hair like that?

Did it naturally fall like that, or did you spend time styling it?

How did you keep your hands so irresistibly soft, such that each accidental touch during break time was maddening?

He was going to get your number if it was the death of him. To hell with the rules (he wasn’t supposed to have a significant other, but to him, that just meant no one could find out about it).

* 

The following day, Yamato was careful to slip out of practice just when you would be coming up the stairs, lugging around everyone’s drinks, snacks, and anything else they requested. 

Shit, you were cute. On the way up the stairs, one of the bags caught on the handrail and sent you reeling.

“Ah! You okay?” Yamato rushed down to help free you from the railing, momentarily forgetting his embarrassment. “Did you trip?”

You assured him that you were fine, just a bit surprised. It was lucky that he was nearby in case something bad had happened.

Speaking of, you inquired if Yamato was sneaking out of practice on purpose.

 Had he been caught? Did you figure it out? No, wait. You were just making a joke about Yamato’s age. Very funny. He's an old many taking a break because he can't keep up with the others. Yeah, yeah.

“Do you need help carrying those up? Wouldn’t want you to fall again.”

Shit. The way your eyes blazed, informing him that you were _not_ completely helpless and could _most definitely_ carry everything up the stairs – after all, you had been doing so for months – just drove him wild.

“You wanna grab a coffee sometime?” It was out before he could stop it, and now you were staring up at him in disbelief.

“Ah… you know, just as coworkers! Let me treat you sometime!” Nice save. He didn’t think he would be able to look you in the eye if you refused… and that would make for an awkward work environment.

\---------------

>Accept

>Refuse


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author struggles over the time-old fanfic question: Should I use Japanese honorifics or omit them for fluidity?
> 
> Also, if I write out the alternative choices, then I will adjust chapter titles and numbering.

** > ACCEPT**

“I’ll go with you.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, and Yamato almost missed it over his nervous laughter. What? You couldn’t be serious… surely you were just playing along.

“Really?” Yamato didn’t need to ask, because from the look on your face - beet-red cheeks, downcast eyes, chewing on your lip – it was evident that you indeed meant to accept. Nerves be damned, Yamato wanted to commit this image of you to memory. Engrave it in his mind’s eye so that he would never forget.

“Yes. I’ll go.”

“Ah… okay. Should I text you? What day do you want to—“ It was a wonder that he was able to produce any sound at all, because Yamato felt as if the breath had been beaten out of him. Instead, all of his words rushed out in a flood. He had wanted to talk to you for so long that he couldn’t hold back any longer. He wouldn’t be able to shut up even if he tried.

“What kind of coffee do you like? Are you free after work?”

Shit! You were fiddling with your blouse and looking down at the ground… were you nervous? Had you been… (dare he think it)… did you actually like him back? Had he misread you this entire time?

No. He shouldn’t let it cross his mind. He wasn’t so presumptuous that he would imagine… shit.

“I’m free. If you want to meet up today, that would be fine.”

Indeed, it would be fine. Fine to meet up with you… you _were_ fine.

He couldn’t possibly voice such an embarrassing notion.

“Yeah! Here, give me your contact info. I’ll…” Yamato felt in his pocket for his phone, which was back in the practice room with his bags. “Ah. My phone is back with my stuff. I’ll give you my number.”

He recited to you his number, pausing to make sure that you had the right digits entered. You made some offhand joke about him giving you a fake number as a prank, and Yamato was somewhat disturbed that you would even entertain the thought.

“Why would I do a thing like that? I really, really want to take you out.”

Yamato only meant to calm your doubts… but, once again, his words were pouring out in an embarrassing torrent.

“Ah… I mean…! Haha…” He laughs, his smile shaky. “I-I… I asked y-“

“Is this where you’ve been all this time? We were waiting for you to come back.” Iori closed the door to the studio and glanced between you and Yamato.

“___, thanks for the drinks. We’ll be finished once we run through the routine one last time.”

Although Yamato trusted the others in his group, he didn’t think it was a good idea to let on what either of you had been talking about. Blessedly, you understood this without the need to speak it aloud.

“Sorry. I tripped down the stairs. Yamato-san happened to catch me just in time.” You granted both of them a reassuring smile. “I’m all right, now!”

“That’s good. Be more careful next time.” Iori’s parting words were even. He didn’t suspect anything.

You smiled and gave Yamato a thumbs up (really, you’re an adorable dork), and he returned the gesture with a wink.

“Keep up the good work!” As Iori’s back was turned, Yamato was granted a few precious seconds to end your conversation:

“See you soon,” he mouthed.

 

>Wait for him in the hall

>Text from the break room

 


	3. Chapter 3

**> Text from the break room**

 

Yamato heard the ping of his phone from across the room. Sweaty and fatigued, he tried to push the excitement that it might be a message from you. It didn’t work – he was so distracted that he forgot where he was supposed to step, and ended up smacking Tamaki with his arm.

“Oh… sorry! I was thinking about something else,” he said, not sorry at all, because this mishap would cost him a few more seconds of not being able to look at his phone.

The moment practice was over and everyone had cleared the room (he would not explain his newfound enthusiasm and fascination with your messages), Yamato made a beeline for his bag. His hands were shaky, struggling to slide through his lock screen. One text notification.

It was from _you_.

Had all the air left his lungs? Was it always so hot in here? Was his mouth usually this dry? He stared at your message like it was the most sacred of texts.

_Thanks for earlier! I hope practice went well. What time do you want to meet up?_

What time do you want to meet up.

WHAT TIME DO YOU WANT TO MEET UP...

Any time, really. If you asked to meet up at three o’clock in the morning, he would be out of bed and running down the street as soon as he sent an acceptance. Shit, he’d open up his own coffee shop if it meant that you’d come see him every day. 

Oh, right. A reply. Yamato thought of a hundred possibilities in a matter of seconds.

_Not so good, I couldn’t see your beautiful face._

_I was too busy thinking about you to concentrate._

_Every time you look at me, I think I could die._

_Are you real or were you created just to drive me wild?_

Those only answered half of your text. Yamato still had half of a problem. Or, maybe a whole problem… many of those weren’t any kind of normal answer.

_I want to see you right away. I can’t wait another moment._

_Let’s meet up tonight, when no one’s around. I want you to show me a special expression._

_Can I hold your hand on the way out?_

_Do you know I’ve thought about those soft hands when I—_

Shit. Focus. His reply was short.

_It wasn’t bad. Give me a few minutes to clean up, and then we can go._

He sprinted to the showers and tore off his clothes. 

 

***

 

“Did you wait long?” Yamato’s hair was still wet when he met you at the entrance of the building. You puffed out your cheeks in indignation at him.

Oh, shit. Were you… mad? Did he make you wait too long? Did you hate him now?

Wait, no. You reached into your bag and produced a small towel- no, a handkerchief – and patted his hair.

“You should have dried it properly!” Yamato supposed you meant to be threatening with this, but he couldn’t find it anything other than… adorable. If he knew that neglecting himself like this meant you touching and doting(?) on him, he would have done it sooner. Hell, he would have thrown himself in front of a bus.

Okay, maybe that’s dramatic.

“Don’t worry about me! Oniisan is tough.” He would lament the loss of your touch on his hair… but you didn’t remove your hand.

**> Go back into building**

**> Dry with handkerchief**


	4. Chapter 4

**> Go back into the building**

“Come on,” you said, glaring at him as if he were a child. “If you stay out here like that, you’ll catch a cold.”

Yamato didn’t really mind if that was the case, as long as you visited to take care of him.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s get going!” He was more than eager to be with you in any other place than the company building, but you were adamant.

“If you get sick, I’ll feel bad about it. Besides, it might hurt the group if you can’t practice.” Always rational, of course. Yamato wished that you would say something like…

_If you get sick, I’ll worry about you._

_If you get sick, I won’t see you at work. I’ll miss you._

Yamato was shaken from these thoughts as you grabbed his hand (GRABBED HIS HAND!!) and dragged him back into the building. He would have felt guilty about causing such a hassle, except for the fact that you were touching him with those wonderful, soft hands, and he was (once again) letting his imagination run a bit too freely. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Not as long as he could touch you.

Mostly, he was mad that he wouldn't be able to buy you any coffee and spend more time with you. Tic toc. He only had a few hours to learn your favorite sweets and the way you preferred your drinks – Sweet? Scorching hot? Slightly bitter?

 

* * *

 

 Scratch all of that, Yamato wasn’t angry at these turn of events at all, because you happened to drag him back into the building, up to the practice room, and into the showers. You weren’t supposed to be there, but damn. He really didn’t care at this point…

…because your hands were in his hair, tousling it as you held a hairdryer with the other hand. Holy shit.

You were standing mere centimeters from him – you were close enough that he could wrap his arms around you and pull you into his lap. (Would you slap him if he tried it?)

It was very, very tempting, because as you made your way around his head, you ended up standing right in front of him, leaning your body with your chest in his face.

Not a bad situation at all. He tried to fight back a laugh, to no avail. You asked him what was funny, and he (perhaps foolishly) chose to be honest.

“Standing that close to me is a bold move. You might give Oniisan a few ideas…”

You turned off the dryer and raised an eyebrow. Oh, shit. That was a cute expression – he had teased you, and now you were confused. Shit. Catalogue that for another day.

Anyway, his aim was to point out that treating him like a child was no good. He was a man, and if you stood so closely to him, making such cute faces, it was only natural that he would start imagining one thing or another. Of course, there was no way that you could have done any of that intentionally. After all, Yamato was certain that you only saw him, at best, as a friendly face at work.

“I wondered when you would notice.”

_Pardon?!?_

Okay, he probably heard you wrong.

“W-What?” He sputtered, tripping over his own tongue. You placed the dryer on the counter and turned to look at him. What expression was that?

“I wasn’t trying to hide it, y’know.” You crossed your arms – angry? annoyed?

Yamato found himself lost for words.

 

>Be aggressive.

>Let him figure it out.


	5. Chapter 5

**> Let him figure it out.**

 

You stood in front of Yamato, waiting for something… but what it was, he couldn’t riddle it out. The longer he was silent, the more your face fell. You were no longer bemused, but staring at him with a pitiful look.

Waiting for him to notice… notice what? It couldn’t possibly be that you were standing so close to him on purpose. No.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Wrong? No, oh no. This was going very bad, very fast.

Here was the thing – the terrible truth that tore Yamato up inside. He couldn’t bear to entertain that thought, because what if it wasn’t true? What if you were only teasing him, and in a moment you’d say “Just kidding!” and laugh at him for saying something so presumptuous.

Just because he had a few fans didn’t mean that _you_ liked him. He wasn’t so self-centered to think that. If anything… you probably agreed to go for coffee because it would be bad for him to venture off alone. Fans might approach him and cause trouble for the company. You were probably just chaperoning.

Like you were taking care of him now. That was your job, after all. Yamato’s face fell as he realized that he was being a nuisance. What started as excitement (you were touching him!) now felt bitter and childish.

Shit. He had fallen silent for too long, and now the look of disappointment in your eyes was palpable.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, his voice shaking. Please don’t be angry with me. Please.

“Nothing,” you said, and handed him the dryer. “You should take better care of yourself. The others are depending on you, okay?”

What did he do? Why did you look so sad? You didn’t want to touch him anymore, and he mourned that loss.

Quick. Think. He rummaged through his mind, desperately searching for the right thing to say. Something to make you laugh. Something to make you smile again. Something to make you reach over and touch him.

“Oniisan gets tired sometimes. I’m not as young as them!” He meant to poke fun at himself, to use the same self-depreciating humor to show himself as vulnerable. Approachable.

But you only looked more disappointed in him. Even more sad. _Shit._

“If you’re tired, you shouldn’t go out. It’s bad to push yourself… it would be bad if you got sick. Everyone would be upset.”

How could you say such a thing? He’d gladly infect himself with every pathogen if it meant he got to spend more time with you.

But, it was like he thought. He was only being a nuisance to you, and now he was wasting more of your time.

 _Everyone_ would be upset. Not specifically _you_.

“Ah… I see,” his voice cracked, though he struggled to keep it even. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? He forced out a laugh, but it came out as a pathetic sigh.

It was his fault. He acted selfishly, and now you were inconvenienced.

“I’m not tired right now. Why don’t we get going?” His smile was shaky. _Please._

“Are you sure you want to go?”

Translation: Are you sure you want to go? If you take too long, I’ll be inconvenienced. If people see us, then we’ll get in trouble. I have other things to do today, and you’re taking up too much of my time. Get lost. I’ll humor you because it’s my job.

“It isn’t… we don’t have to go,” Yamato muttered, utterly defeated. He didn’t want to look at you – to see confirmation that you hated him. That he was being selfish. That he was only using his position as a means of influence over you.

He stole a look at you, and wished that he hadn’t.

Your lip quivered, and you turned away from him to collect your things.

Your reply was so soft and anguished.

“Okay.”

 

**> Go home.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the situation, and it's beautiful.
> 
> You: the reader, who loves Yamato because you are reading a Yamato fic.
> 
> MC: Also in love with Yamato - you live vicariously through them, making choices and hoping for something lovely to happen AND YET
> 
> Yamato: the means in which you experience these events - colored through his eyes, his bias.
> 
> In giving you choices, I have left you with few choices.


	6. Chapter 6

  **> Go home.**

 

Sitting in his room, alone, silent, and forlorn, Yamato couldn’t decipher where he went wrong – where he so royally fucked up that you left him upset.

What if you never talked to him again?

What if you _hated_ him?

He sat on the floor, staring at his phone, waiting for the notification light to blink. He hadn’t tried to send you a message, although he had imagined a thousand possible texts.

_Do you have free time this weekend? I still want to see you._

_I didn't mean to upset you; I just wanted to make you laugh._

_When I saw how upset you were, I wanted to rip out my heart and hand it over._

_Please don’t hate me._

_Please talk to me again._

None of them were any good, and he didn’t imagine that you would want to see him, anyway.

He ran through the events again.

You agreed to go out with him.

He ran to meet you, stupidly not drying his hair.

Being selfish, really.

So you dried it for him, like he was an idiot child (he was).

You touched him with your soft hands (fuck, yes).

You were so close that he could have kissed you (why didn’t he?).

He wanted to reach up and pull you into his lap and bury his face in your neck and kiss you until you sighed and melted against him (maybe that’s too forward).

Stop. Distracted.

Teased you about standing so close. Tried to flirt.

_“I wondered when you would notice.”_

?!?

_“I guess I was wrong.”_

?!?!?!?!!?

All right.

Let’s entertain this notion. What if you _did_ like him? What if you agreed, not because it was your job to help him, but because you wanted to be with him – maybe as much as he wanted to be with you?

So… you would have been flirting with him. And you were upset because…?

He hadn’t replied to you. You were insecure for the flirtation to be ignored. Maybe you… thought _he_ hated you?

But that was preposterous. Shit, he berated himself hourly for not being able to control his tongue around you. He wanted to tease you, to compliment you… but all that flew out of his mouth was stupidity. Stupid. Nonsensical.

Yamato groaned and rubbed his temple.

Shit. If you already hated him, there wasn’t much to lose. He picked up his phone and opened your text log (it was painful enough to look at your earlier messages – from the Before Time). Typing out his response felt like he were pricking himself with needles.

Every tap. A pang of guilt.

_“I didn’t notice before. I think I get it now.”_

Sent.

Where was the beer? Time to get wasted before you could reply and bring him to his (miserable) senses. Throw the phone on the bed. Don’t fucking look at that torture device.

 

* * *

 

Several beers later (four more than usual), Yamato couldn’t fucking breathe because he was laughing so hard.

He found a new game to play: stacking the beer cans and trying to get his Roomba to knock them over. Strike! Five hundred points to Yamato. Fuck, yes.

“Beep beep. What’s that?” Yamato giggled as he picked up his phone. The notification light was blinking. “Who wants to talk to me~?”

He stopped himself with an overdramatic gasp. YOU. You, precious you. Pretty you. Soft, sweet-smelling you.

Why was the message upside down? No. That was just him. Phone goes the other way.

_“Do you?”_

The short message was accompanied by a teddy bear emoji, scratching its head. Oh, no. You were so cute. Oh, no. Yamato had to reread his previous text to remember what he was talking about.

OH YEAH. HOW COULD HE FORGET. HE WAS A DUMBASS.

He had the perfect reply. It only took him one minute to type and send (that’s progress!): “I THINK YOU LIKE ME BUT NOT AS MUCH AS I LIKE YOU, PROBABLY.”

Except it read:

_“ithink you sliek me but now as mushc as I live you….. probly”_

To which you could only reply:

_“What?”_

_“whaddy men what”_

_“I can’t understand what you’re trying to say. I think… I know, but…”_

_“is saying your SO PRETTY IT MAKES MESHAKE AND NERVOUS!!!”_ (Yamato was proud of this one. He definitely wrote it legibly.)

_“Yamato-san, are you okay??”_

_“fck yes im fthinkn bout u bby ur so good so MMmmmM”_

_“I’m very flattered, but are you drinking?!?”_

_“yes I wa ssad bc u hate me.”_

_“I don’t hate you. I was a little upset because I thought you didn’t like me back.”_

_“YOULIKE ME???HOLSHIT”_

_“HOLYSHI”_

_“Omg. Are you somewhere safe?”_ (Yamato did not reply to this. He was mentally indisposed.)

_“WOWWWWWWW AHHHHHHHHH”_

_“SHHHIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!”_

_“I thought you figured it out? Didn’t you notice?”_

_“OM I WAN HOLD UR HAND”_

_“Uh… you can do that if you want.”_ (Victory fist pump.)

_“HOLSHIIIIIT iLL SO IT SO GOOD Bb”_

_“OM I GOTTA TELL YOU BOUT ALL THE TIMes I plannd womthin so you woultalk to me!!!”_

_“You can tell me later… maybe tomorrow?”_ (Accompanied with another bear emoji, to which Yamato howled, “SO FUCKIN CUTE!”)

_“A DATe!!!!”_

_“Yeah, we should probably talk about this face to face, don’t you think?”_

_“ru face is so cute icant talk my brain wen boom boom”_

_“Omg… Do you need me to come check on you?”_

_“MG COM 2 MY ROOm that's Naugty!!! HolE SHIIt”_

_“OMG._ [Yamato hoped you were laughing.] _Text me later, okay? You should go to sleep soon. Goodnight xx”_

XX!!!!!! KISSES! FUCK, YES.

 

**> Text in the morning**

**> Wait to see him at work**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my magnum opus, move aside shakespeare


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good luck at ur interview girlie

**> Text in the morning**

 

Yamato awoke with a pounding headache and a very cold stomach, probably because he had kicked off his sheets during the night and feel asleep without a shirt on.

Not a good idea to drink when he has work in the morning. File that under memos to self – memos that I’ll never read nor heed.

He sat up in bed and scratched his stomach, yawning. At least he hadn’t slept through his alarm.

He hadn’t forgotten the events of the previous night. In fact, the longer he sat in bed, the more he remembered, and the more horrified he became.

Horrified and giddy. As he recalled, he finally got a (somewhat) solid answer about why you were so upset with him.

_You liked him._

Eager (and anxious) to hear from you – talk to you – text you- say good morning – to laugh with you, Yamato reached for his phone, which was buried somewhere in his sheets. Once he had retrieved it from the tangled linens, he tapped the screen.

Damn. Dead.

Apparently drunken Yamato was not cognizant of the limits of technology. There was nothing he could do now besides wait for the phone to regain charge. He hooked it up to the outlet and returned to bed, stretching and reclining lazily before he had to rush out the door (he always gave himself plenty of time to wake up).

What were you doing right now?

Were you also awake, drinking some coffee, eating a quick breakfast?

What was your favorite breakfast food? Did you like something easy to make, or did you plan out your meals with meticulous care?

What was your morning routine like?

Did the two of you (oh!) happen to do the same things at the same time? (The thought of this sent Yamato’s heart fluttering – what a silly notion.)

He was grateful to Drunk!Yamato for opening up this possibility… for finally voicing what he had been hiding for a while… but he also missed the solace he found in being able to watch you at work when you were not suspecting. Now… you would probably meet his eyes, or at least keep a sharper eye.

You would pay attention to him!

You would, maybe, look at him during work!

God, he wanted to talk to you right away. (A date!! You had a date!!) Stupid, Drunk!Yamato. His phone wouldn’t turn on until the battery was partially full, so he probably had a few minutes to spare before he got to see those adorable emojis once more (yes, he hasn’t forgotten. He would commit those to everlasting memory.)

 

* * *

 

Yamato always locked the door before he started, as it would be quite humiliating if any of the others stumbled in on his… private time. He pushed down his sweatpants and pulled out his cock.

Not hard yet, but it didn’t take long when he pictured your soft hands wrapping around his shaft and pulling it into your mouth. Shit. The way your cheeks would hollow when you sucked on him and the sight of your lips wrapped around him. Taking in all of him. Moaning to send small vibrations through his cock. _Fuck_.

He fisted the base of his cock and used his free hand to pull the foreskin down. He was dripping by now, and used his precum to slick his shaft.

“Shit, baby. I want you _so_ bad.”

And then... the realization that you might want him, too. God damn. You'd be smiling at him, maybe even laughing, when he took you out. He could try to kiss you. He could wrap his arms around you and bury his face in your hair. 

Yamato liked to think of these scenarios - but acting on them was quite another matter. He'd sob with joy if he could only hold your hand. Ah.... he was getting ahead of himself. Yamato bit his lip and groaned down at his cock, angry and throbbing. 

It would be nice if you would one day help him out with _this,_ but his imagination could conjure quite colorful scenarios on its own. Now, to find a way to bring those to fruition...

 _"Ah... ah, baby... you're so good."_ Frankly, he didn't give a damn if the others heard him. He was too happy to silence his cries.  
  
 **> (Continue)**

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I will continue this as it was mostly mindless typing.  
> Mindless typing is good for the soul, less good for the reader's soul.


End file.
